


I drifted through the universe just to lay beside you

by EmperorSnarkon (homobromantic)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Post Season 6, Pre-Relationship, of dialogue prompts, thats all i can write apparently and that is not a joke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homobromantic/pseuds/EmperorSnarkon
Summary: Words bubbled up his throat, confessions zipping almost painfully inside his chest like a live wire. Lance wanted to say I want to kiss you and he wanted to whisper I love you, Keith Kogane and he wanted to breathlessly share every secret he ever had.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	I drifted through the universe just to lay beside you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VibrantVenus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibrantVenus/gifts).

> me? still posting vld in 2019? more likely than you think (ignores my other wips). 
> 
> for you angle! i procrastinated long enough. I didn't manage to fit in all the dialogue prompts in this part so who knows... perhaps there will be a part 2. :)
> 
> work title comes from the Jaymes Young song "Dark Star". It's amazing you should check it out!

The bug-like leader of the Blanek was surprised to see them. Their narrow green eyes were unblinking, antennae sticking straight up. “You’re actually alive!” 

“I sure hope so,” Lance heard Hunk mutter, but he didn't try to respond. He was too busy thinking of arches of lightning and full body spasms and the way his gasp back to life had burned his lungs. 

“As you can see, Voltron still lives and will still continue our mission of defending the universe,” Allura said, taking a step forward to greet the shell-shocked ( _ ha _ , Lance thought,  _ we scared their exoskeleton stiff _ ) Blanek. “I am Princess Allura, Paladin of the Blue Lion.” 

“I am Blaer.” The Blanek said and accepted Allura’s outstretched hand, gently bowing to press it against their forehead. “It is an honor, Princess Allura.” 

“Likewise,” She repeated the hand-to-forehead gesture with Blaer’s nearly impossibly thin hand. “Thank you for having us.” 

“It is a pleasure and an honor to host Voltron on our humble planet.” Blaer’s antenna twitched forward. “Whatever you need we shall try our best to meet. Our resources are not the best, especially just having overthrown the Galra colonizing our planet, so I must sincerely apologize in case there is a requirement we miss.” Their eyes crinkled in what must have been their version of a smile. “Please enjoy your stay. Feel free to contact me for whatever you need. Just ask for Blaer or come see me here at my office.” 

Allura repeated her thanks, a barely stifled yawn stretching out her vowels.

Feeling strangely numb, Lance followed the rest of Voltron down a dimly lit hallway. The walls were made of tightly woven vines, dark green in the night lighting and looking more complex and nonsensical than scrambled spaghetti. Had he not been so tired, their resemblance to guts would have disgusted him. 

Even Pidge, being the Guardian Spirit of Plants or something, couldn’t find enough energy to fawn over the plant-based architecture. She ambled along with half-closed eyes, already in her pajamas.

His body already ached from a week of napping on Red’s piloting chair and sleeping on the hard metal floor. For all his sleep-addled brain could tell, the walk to their guest rooms could have been hours long. Likely, it was only a few minutes before his greasy face landed face-first on a round bed of moss, knocking out almost instantly. 

  
  


What didn’t feel like hours was the amount of sleep he got. 

It felt like all he did was blink, eyes closing for the briefest moment before his gaze was trained into the dark, sweat itching the nape of his neck and small of his back. Lance’s breaths stuttered, the sounds of his quiet gasps scraping through the silence. His lungs refused to expand for a deep breath and it was with disoriented pawing at his own chest that he realized it was because he had forgotten to remove his binder before falling asleep. 

Cursing softly around the dryness of his mouth, Lance rolled to the edge of the bed. His pulse pounded against his bones, behind his eyes, at the base of his throat. With shaky hands, he worked his arms under his binder and pulled it over his head from under his shirt. Too tired to care, he tossed the garment in a random direction, immediately losing it to the pitch dark of the floor. 

Sucking in a breath and attempting to stretch the aches out of his spine and ribs, Lance entertained the idea of more sleep. 

The moss bed was soft and cool. The perfect amount of spongy but firm. Or maybe that was just his skewed opinion as someone who hadn’t even touched a cot in over a month. 

Point was, for Lance’s current circumstances, he couldn’t ask for a more perfect bed (except for maybe one with a blanket), but there was a nervous jitter thrumming through his limbs and misplaced adrenaline telling him he had to fight or fly. But there was nothing to fight or fly away from. 

Just Lance, his moss bed, and the walls of vines. 

Rubbing his fingers harshly against his eyes, Lance attempted to rationalize the feeling away.  _ There’s no one here. There is no one here. It’s just you. Just you. _

It wasn't as reassuring as he had hoped. 

The shadows swallowed up the rounded corners of the room, making the floor stretch endlessly. If it wasn’t for the uneven shadows of the vine walls, Lance could have believed he was sitting in a void. It all made him feel small. Little moonlight seeped in through wide, purposeful gaps in the vines, but they were too high up for Lance to peer outside. Their inaccessibility made him think of a prison, which was ridiculous and he knew it. He was here, on Blanek, somewhat of his own free will and definitively not for any crimes. 

Lance didn’t feel any less trapped. 

He managed not to trip on his way out, footsteps measured and slow in the direction of the door. Vine architecture saw no use in doorknobs, so he had to sweep and press his jittery hands over the wall until he touched the right place and a section loosened up, vines untangling to hang like curtain. The plants whispered cooly against his skin as he passed through. 

The hallway was just as dark, save for the openings in the vines lining themselves down the middle of the ceiling, revealing bits and pieces of a night sky. 

Longing to see the entirety of it outlined his flightiness. 

Alien architecture was often tricky to sneak out of, and this one built of alien plants was no different. There were no helpful signs and everything looked unfamiliar. Feeling like a ghost, Lance followed the hallway to his left, the direction he  _ thought _ he came from when they were being housed. A hand drifted over the walls, dipping and rising with the curves of tangled plants. The darkness almost let him think the woody stems were familiar. 

Eventually, Lance came across a patio of sorts, lead out to by a round gap big enough for the Blanek to ease in and out of. The floor was composed of flat slabs of white stone, veins of soil outlining their jagged shapes. A tall fence -- or, at least, tall to Lance and the rest of Voltron -- made of up long pieces of white stone held together by thin vines enclosed the big space. 

Potted bushes with fuzzy flowers were placed along the fence, and Lance padded to the nearest one. 

His fingertips buzzed from trailing over the walls. The coolness of the rocks reminded him this was really his life. 

As he brushed his knuckles over a fluff, his mouth twisted up into a wry smile. He probably looked so corny right then, a lonely boy touching a flower in the moonlight. 

“My life is a shitty drug store novel,” Lance confessed to the bush, nevermind the fact that he had never read a shitty drug store novel. 

In response, the bush just rustled in the breeze that rolled through. 

Lance lifted his head, fluttering his eyes closed as he hauled in a deep breath. Despite the clear skies, the breeze smelled like rain. Wistfully, he said, “If it rains, I’ll piss myself. I’ll be so happy.” He turned back to the flower. “Bet no one would write  _ that  _ into a shitty drug store novel. This, single-handedly, proves I’m not a shitty drug store novel protagonist.” 

The flower seemed to wilt a little over his finger. 

“Right, thank you for your time.”

He slouched over the railing next to the bush, peering out into the dark shape of a tree line. “A lonely boy protagonist would probably go brood in the woods, right?” However, the trees were laughably small, and Lance would rather not feel even more out of place among tiny thin trees. 

Distress from whatever nightmare had woken him up had faded to the back of his mind, leaving him achingly aware of how he seemed to be the only one around, how it wouldn’t even matter if anyone else was up because they would gravitate away from him. 

Lance rested his forehead against the rail, uncaring to how a vine pressed uncomfortably against the arch of his left eyebrow. “I can’t believe I’m going through my emo phase so late in life…” 

Unsurprisingly, bush nor flower responded. 

There was no use to whispering, but speaking any louder than the brush of leaves against each other felt wrong. “I don’t mean to be so melodramatic, and I know it doesn’t make sense,  _ I  _ don't make sense, but I’m so fucking lonely.” His eyes were wet enough without the yawn that very nearly dislocated his jaw. “Keith’s back, the real Shiro is back. We should be more united than ever, but here I am, bent over like an idiot. Venting to a bush.” A pause. “No offense, you’re a very good listener.

“I’m just-” Lance leaned even more heavily against the fence, hanging his limp arms over the railing next to his head. Since he was already addressing it, he turned to set his unfocused eyes on the plant. “-I wish I were talking to a friend instead. An actual person at least. I would go to my lion but… Red and I aren’t tight like that yet. Feel like he secretly compares me to Keith.” 

Unbidden, memories of his Garrison days -- Iverson in his face after another failed simulation, mouth moving so fast it was practically spasming, “Keith this- Keith that-” -- rose up. “Wouldn’t be the first time. I miss Blue... I miss my family.” 

Tears eased out the corner of his eye, slipping down his temple to get lost in his hair. 

“I can’t wait to go back home.” His declaration was punctuated by a punched-out sob, and pretty soon he couldn’t suppress hitched gasps and shaking shoulders. Ugly little snorts caused by his attempts to quiet down his hiccups were muffled into his shirt sleeve, teeth subconsciously clenching around the loose fabric. Pressure was building behind his eyes, threatening to sharpen into a headache at his temples. 

With an abrupt inhale, he allowed himself to sink to the floor. His forehead dragged and bounced on the vined railing and his butt plopped onto the flat stones carelessly. He stuck his legs through the gaps between rails, gold-thread grass tickling the sliver of skin between his scrunched pants and worn socks.

Not for the first time, Lance wondered if there was a God. A mysterious puppeteer of the universe that resented him for never quite believing, not the way his mother had and tried to pass on to him. Was He spiteing Lance? He was, wasn’t He? 

Lance held a breath in until he lungs felt too tight. Shaking his head, he moved to balance his weight on his heels, forcing himself to go back to his borrowed room and get some sleep. “Get it together, Lance, get it  _ together _ .” 

Despite his words and intentions, his forehead remained pressed against the vines, their cooler temperature heaven on his flushed skin. He clutched the plants, forcing his fingertips between the tightly interwoven green and unyielding stone. “Get it together, Lance” 

He scrunched his eyes shut and didn’t move beyond his not quite deep, not quite unsteady, breathing. 

  
  


“Hey, this seat taken?” 

Lance’s head snapped up, releasing a series of concerning cracks, but truth be told Lance had been crouched in the dark for a while. Enough for the heels of his bare feet to go numb and his legs to give up getting his attention at the way his position made them burn. He paid his bones no mind, opted to stare at the faint glow of Keith’s pale face in the alien moonlight. He hoped, almost absently, that Keith couldn’t see the wet trails tears had marked down his face. “Nah. It’s free.” Lance rasped, the master of cool and casual. 

Wordlessly, Keith sat down, legs clad in alien pants too big, too loose. Lance knew, for a fact, that the material was cotton soft and silk smooth, because he had a matching pair. (He hadn't thought Keith would happily agree to his half-joking proposition to get matching pajamas with odd little creatures resembling sheep in the vaguest sense, red and blue respectively. Yet he had, and Lance had been too stunned and dazed by the sight of Keith’s crooked smile to do anything other than nod and hand over a handful of GAC he hadn’t bothered to count to the space mall salesperson.) 

“This place is nice,” Keith mumbled, voice scratchy in a way that Lance suspected meant, up until very,  _ very  _ recently, he had been asleep. 

The moon orbiting the planet was a huge misshapen lump, reflecting down weak light with the faintest tinge of violet. Wispy clouds blotted out chunks of stars, milky against the inky sky. Everywhere the clouds didn’t reach, countless stars, indistinguishable from faraway planets, winked. Curving near the horizon, a cloud of space dust and even more distant stars lined the view, the kind of sight Lance would have killed for back on Earth. 

Unlike some people that he knew, Lance didn’t have night vision, but he got the impression that the planet was a sight to behold in the daylight. The grass beneath his feet was fine, soft enough to be carpet. The trees in the distance whispered to each other, swaying a bit more than Lance thought trees should for such a slight breeze. Lost among the shadows were smaller plants and the sources of the oddly musical chirping that soundtracked the night. The air still smelled like rain. 

“Yeah, I… It is.” Lance whispered after a pause. Discreetly, he attempted to wipe his face on his jacket sleeves, which shouldn’t have been that hard because his arms were right there, under his chin. Easily accessible where they rested over his knees. 

Carefully, (but still kind of callously, because, c’mon? Think about it. Who asks that?) Keith asked, “Are you crying?” 

Lance sniffed back the mucus threatening to slide out of his nose. “No.” 

“Ah, are you sure? It looks like you’re crying. NOt- not that it’s bad to cry or anything. Crying is- good. It’s good to cry. Gets out all those… emotion chemicals, makes you feel better in the end…” Keith rambled, naked hands twitching over his own thighs. “Don’t be embarrassed about crying.” 

“Gee,” Lance said in a thick voice. “Words aren’t your forte, huh?” 

Keith’s overgrown bangs flopped as he puffed out a breath. “Yeah, I know. I’ve always been, y’know, more of an action kind of guy.”

Keeping his left cheek pressed against his arms, Lance watched Keith fidget some more, picking at the hem of his bright red shirt. “Hm, yeah. I know, samurai.” 

“But,” Keith gulped loudly, the shadows and moonlight at his neck shifting with the movement. “But I want to comfort you. That was a perfect example on how  _ not  _ to do things, I know, but --shockingly enough-- I haven’t found a step-by-step manual on these things.” His wavering smile showed he was trying to lighten the mood.

Clearly, Lance needed to straighten out his legs, because the blood flow was forced to redirect under the skin of his cheeks and ears. “I mean, it was a little awkward but it wasn’t- wasn’t bad. It made me feel a little better. Don’t sweat it, man.” 

“I want to make you feel a lot better,” Keith said without hesitation. His dark eyes glimmered under the shadows of his bedhead. 

Keith’s raw honesty and unwavering gaze made Lance’s breath catch in his throat.  _ Oh boy _ , Lance thought,  _ I’m going to die here, on this alien planet, without shoes, just because Keith made me choke on my breath. He’s not even that poetic... _ He managed to exhale through a shaky laugh, huffing just as his eyes summoned more tears from the ether. “I’m crying again. Do you see this? You’re supposed to talk me out of this.”  _ I  _ really  _ need to get a grip. _

Keith smiled, nailing gentle in an atmosphere of stark shadows. “I already said crying is good. I can’t ruin my brand like that.” 

Closing his eyes, Lance turned his face into his arms, dropping his butt to the cold floor again. His  _ mama  _ was a good woman, a good mom, but she had always hated when her children cried for what she considered no good reason, so Lance had mastered the art of crying silently. His shoulders shook with no more sound than his shaky exhales and occasional sharp inhale. A warm hand between his shoulder blades startled him, hitching his breath. 

“Dude, I don’t wanna make it sound like I want to hear you cry, but you don’t have to be quiet. You don't have to- have to hold back,” Keith breathed out closer than before. 

In response, an ugly sob tore itself out of Lance’s chest. 

The hand moved from his back to his shoulder and the rest of Keith followed to press against Lance’s side. Hiccuping a ridiculous consecutive amount, Lance uncurled to lean into Keith’s warmth. One of his hands found its way to Keith’s shirt, twisting the material over a dumb blown up version of the vaguely sheep-like animal from the pajama bottoms. 

Choked up, Lance confessed, “Space has been hell without you. The loss of the Castle? It’s going to fuck me up. I have trouble sleeping. I can’t stop seeing Shiro differently after the clone stuff. I failed him. I failed you guys. I don’t have anyone the way the others do. Lotor was such a piece of shit and I  _ felt  _ it the whole time but everyone else  _ liked  _ him so what else could I do but  _ tolerate  _ him, but maybe if I had been more- more vocal about my suspicions he wouldn’t have been able to hurt the team, hurt  _ Allura _ . I miss you. I missed you.” His lungs shuddered and his throat ached. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-” 

Keith held Lance tightly, his own breathing stuttering in response. “Don’t- don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. All of those things were out of your control. And… I am so sorry about leaving. I didn’t mean to hurt you, didn’t think it would affect you like this. It sounds stupid now… but I thought I was doing what was best for- for the team.” 

“Keith,” Lance croaked, “you’re so stupid sometimes.” 

With a dry laugh, Keith adjusted to face Lance and press him more firmly into his chest. “I know, trust me, I know.” 

Lance tucked his face into Keith’s neck, feeling vindictive at the thought of his tears and snot staining Keith’s skin and Keith’s shirt and maybe Keith’s hair because it had been Keith that had coaxed the waterworks into a flood. He still felt a little guilty when his snot made a wet spot on the collar of his pajama shirt. “I’m,” he paused to sniff. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

Softly, Keith said, “Glad to be back.” 

One of his furnace hands rubbed circles on Lance’s upper back. The heat seemed to seep into Lance’s flesh, seemed to follow the path of his spine, to fill his body with a warmth that had been missing since he had become an outsider in his own team. A warmth that had been missing maybe even before he had come to space on this rockin’ adventure. 

He was also suddenly aware that he wasn’t wearing his binder. Simultaneously, he felt relieved -there was no hem for Keith’s hand to catch on- and fiercely vulnerable, feeling naked despite being fully clothed. His throat attempted to swallow despite having gone desert dry. Lance hadn’t known throats could make grinding noises and was mildly impressed that his own had managed it. 

As discreetly as he could, he curved his back to put more space between his chest and Keith’s. The arm slung over Lance’s shoulders twitched tighter. So he hadn’t been discreet at all. But, because Lance was cool and casual and a master of distractions, he lifted the shirt fisted in his hand up to his nose, obnoxiously wiping his nose with it. He hoped the night softened any suspicious folds on his shirt and Keith’s observational skills.

“Ugh, dude, gross.” Keith grumbled. 

“Wow. Some sympathy please?” Lance retorted, closing his eyes. His breathing had steadied, stopping his lungs from seizing with hiccups, but his lacrimal glands were still working as hard as ever. 

Physically, the dampness he had created at his friend’s neck was beginning to be uncomfortable, but emotionally? Lance was unwilling to put any more distance between them than he needed to. 

He- the team had just gotten Keith back. After months of seeing him only through a screen and fretting about his well being behind the closed door of his bedroom and feeling a gut churning sense of guilt over the dumb guy’s departure because  _ apparently _ there was a reason Keith hadn’t volunteered himself to do any kind of simple math back when Lance had gone seeking a second opinion over his own calculations. 

“I’m being plenty sympathetic. I’m cradling you in my arms right now.” 

The tips of Lance’s ears flushed red. “Yeah,” He sighed without thinking, imagining how Keith’s arms must look around his own shoulders from an outside perspective. Lance  _ knew  _ he wasn’t imagining the heightened definition of Keith’s muscles. He knew with certainty that Keith’s jaw was sharper than he recalled it being the last time his face had graced a video transmission. 

Keith shuddered at Lance’s sigh. Completely engrossed with mentally comparing two versions of Keith to pinpoint the exact changes said paladin had gone, Lance didn’t notice the shivers or the flush that worked themselves through Keith’s body.

Lance’s fingers twitched, resisting the urge to find out how much more muscle Keith had packed on under the dumb cartoon on his dumb pajamas. 

Dragging in a rattling breath that had far too much  _ Keith  _ in it, Lance leaned his face off the other boy. The hand at his back paused. “We should probably head back, get some z’s.” 

“Will you actually sleep?” Keith asked, tilting his head to the side. 

Blinking quickly (in sync with his heartbeat), Lance met Keith’s starry gaze. “I’ll try.” 

The other boy’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “That’s all I ask for.” 

“Yeah,” Lance said hoarsely. “Me too.” 

Neither of them moved. Keith’s fingers twitched on his back, pressing briefly. Lance found sleep was the second to last thing he wanted. 

He swallowed again, uncurling his clenched fingers from Keith’s shirt to wipe the rest of his tears away, pretending that the way he had smoothed Keith’s shirt over his abdomen before moving his hand was just something bros did. “Actually, I think I’m severely dehydrated right now. Was thinkin’ of sucking the moisture right out of the mud if I can’t find some kind of kitchen or bathroom sink.” Internally, Lance was shrieking at himself to shut up. 

“Oh. If you want, we could go together? I am also, as the teens would say, parched.” 

The thin smile that sprung up on Lance’s face was genuine, but he was also genuinely aware that he wasn’t wearing his binder. “I can’t believe it took two years for you to grow a sense of humor.” 

Keith got to his feet with an unnecessary amount of grunting, a hand on his lower back like some kind of ailing old man. “Listen, there was nothin’ to do on that whale except contemplate my existence, fail at teaching Kosmo fetch, and tend my pitiful garden. The weather never changed but somehow it didn’t even last a winter.”

Surprised, Lance laughed, the loudest he had been all night. Thoughtlessly, he took the hand Keith offered to pull him up. Before he straightened properly, his free hand clutched a fistful of his own shirt, pulling the front away from his chest. “Okay, old McDonald, lead us to water.”

  
  


They found a water fountain by two single-stall public bathrooms a few minutes and several blind turns down the halls. Lance couldn’t hold back his bark of a laugh at the sight of them, because for some unfathomable reason the familiar idea of public bathrooms in a fancy alien government building was, well, funny.

“Dude… what?” Keith mumbled, shooting Lance a bemused smile. 

Lance shrugged, lips twitching. Keith narrowed his eyes, making the bags under his eyes even more prominent. “It’s nothing! Seriously. I dunno- I just laughed at the bathrooms. Don’t ask why ‘cause I don’t know, my dude.” 

“Bro, you need some sleep,” Keith grumbled, beating Lance to the single water fountain , a small green basin with a tiny hose (which made sense since the Blanek didn’t have the most flexible bodies to be bending over a spout). He held the hose with one hand and slapped around with the other. For whatever reason, he decided to hold up the hose to his eye, peering into the black of its opening. “How does this wo-” He cut off with a yell as cold water rushed out, splashing his face. 

Lance, the culprit, released the button at the base of the hose to cover his snorting laughter. “Oh, man, your face!” 

“I’m  _ wet _ and I’m going to  _ kill _ you.” 

“You said you were parchEEED,” Lance said, voice turning up in alarm as Keith spun to face him, stalking forward with murderous intent. Still giggling, Lance started backing up, one hand held out placatingly. “Bro, please. BRO, PLEASE-” 

Keith lunged and Lance skedaddled. He threw himself sideways and rolled like he was in some spy movie but much more messily. He splattered himself on the floor, really, and his rolls were more flops than anything else. 

“You will RUE the day you betrayed me.” 

“Keeeith, I’m sorrY,” Lance scuttled into the nearest bathroom but Keith grabbed his ankle before he could shut the door. With every single horror movie he had ever seen running through his mind, Lance was dragged back, a short scream briefly interrupting his laughter. 

Keeping one arm pressed protectively against his chest and the floor, Lance vigorously shook his free arm as he tried to reach back and slap Keith’s playful smile right off his dumb pretty face. What was either stone or very tightly packed earth making up the floor seeped cold into Lance’s exposed stomach, and he couldn't turn around or push his shirt down because all ten thousand pounds of compacted foolishness and muscle that made up Keith Kogane were sitting squat on his lower back. 

“Keith!” Lance wheezed exaggeratedly, “You’re gonna bust my spine.” 

The Red Bastard tried to stick his fingers in Lance’s neck, forcing Lance’s shoulders to bunch up. “Then perish,” Voltron’s noble team leader commanded. Then those weaponized fingers dug into Lance’s lower ribs. 

Bringing his other arm against his body, Lance emitted an unholy combination of shrieking and laughing, helpless against his body’s futile squirming and Keith’s devil hands. His eyes were watering, face and body running warm. Getting tickled was a  _ workout _ , man. 

When Keith finally granted him mercy, he hadn’t known fresh air in years. 

“You’re a menace,” Lance groaned, limp on the floor, as Keith flopped next to him. 

“I’m perfectly pleasant. My mother said so,” Keith retorted serenely. 

“Your mom, huh?” Lance questioned softly, smiling at the content look on Keith’s stupid, stupid face. 

“My  _ mom _ ,” Keith repeated, awe interlaced with his huffed laugh. His eyebrows scrunched together but the inside ends turned up, softening what could have been a glare at the ceiling into something fond. 

“I hate that you were gone, but I’m really happy you found your ma,” Lance said. He pushed his shirt back down before moving an arm under his cheek, tracing his gaze over Keith’s features. (Some of the hair that curled on his cheeks and against his neck was damp, laying against his skin like sweeps of ink. His lips were slightly chapped, stretched from his manic grin during his tickle attack against Lance. Lance didn’t think he would really mind feeling them against his.) “I know… knowing more about yourself is really important. I’m glad you’re finally getting to.” 

Keith’s response started as a croak before he cleared his throat. “Thanks… Thank you. I am glad… also. I’m still sorry that I left you- you guys. And, honestly, you guys- yeah, I left because I wanted to find out more about where I came from and be where I felt I was most useful, but there were other reasons, if I’m being honest. Um…” 

Lance had been watching his mouth shape his words, but at the hesitation he moved his eyes back up. “You don’t have to tell me if they’re too uncomfortable. I’m not- asking or demanding explanations, y’know. I’m not holding it against you. Well, not anymore.” At that, he quirked one corner of his mouth briefly. 

“No- no, I want you to know, I guess? It is uncomfortable but I guess I want you to know more about… me, I guess? Aah, that sounded weird.” His hands pushed against his face before sweeping his long bangs back. His pale forehead was left bare for Lance’s curious stare. (Listen! Keith’s forehead was nearly a cryptid. Who was Lance to reject a glimpse?) ”I mean that- I want to come clean. About why I was the way I was and how I’m determined to change that because I love you guys. I don’t  _ want _ to be the distant loner emo of the group, loitering in the outside- I never wanted to be that. I know a lot of the time it didn’t seem like that, but-” 

Keith shrugged helplessly. 

Heart in his throat, Lance patted Keith’s shoulder, immediately berating himself for the awkward gesture. And yet he opened his mouth and said, “No one has a heart of stone.” 

Keith inhaled sharply, chest expanding as he breathed in deep. “Yeah. When I was younger, after my dad died, it was really-” he dragged his hands down his face. “-hard to let people close. I wanted to, I wanted to so much it  _ hurt _ , but I just kept going in and out of foster homes, changing schools, leaving people, people leaving  _ me _ and I thought- how can anyone not be afraid of love? Of getting attached just to leave or be left? So my dad dying and after years of that, it was difficult for me to not be afraid of- of that. 

I thought it would be easier if it was just me, so I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone or have anyone rely on me. And even when I let myself admit that I loved you guys, that I wanted you to stick around so much that your absence would be like losing part of me, I was scared of it. Of being vulnerable. And I didn’t know how to show it. I didn’t know how to show something everyone else seemed to do so easily and- I know it was unreasonable, but it made me think maybe I just wasn’t meant to have a family. People to love and be loved by.” 

He paused for breath and Lance took the moment to gently take one of Keith’s hands. They were definitely broader than he remembered, calloused in new places. Clumsily, Keith intertwined their fingers.

“I don’t think that anymore, and when I can’t stop those thoughts from forming I don’t believe them anymore. I still don’t really feel comfortable being vulnerable, but I’m- I’m working on it. My mom is helping… even though she isn’t really that much more cuddly than me. We’re workin’ on it. I want to be more affectionate with my family. I want you guys to  _ know _ that I love you and I want to leave no room for doubt. I don’t want…” Keith trained his solemn gaze on Lance’s face. “I don’t want to die regretting keeping you at arm’s length when you mean so much more than the universe to me.” 

The air in Lance’s lungs tripped on its way out. His face  _ burned _ . 

_ He probably means ‘you’ in the general, universal ‘you,’ not… _ me. 

Squeezing the hand in his, Lance said, “You mean a lot to us too. To- to me. I’m sorry I didn’t really make approaching me any easier when we started all… this. I’m sorry I kept up this… charade of being rivals and used it to push you away. I really, really regret it and I really, really want to be your friend. Your  _ best  _ friend, if you would let me.” 

The mushiest smile Lance had ever seen in his life settled on Keith’s face, crinkling his sleepy eyes and softening up the new angles of his cheeks and jaw. It tugged awkwardly on the burn scar on his cheek, but didn't make his expression any less cute. “Lance, you’re already my best friend.Yeah, our relationship at the start was… well, you were there. But after a while your challenges and stuff were kinda fun. I knew how to interact with you better than the others, not counting Shiro.” Kind of abruptly, he shifted to lay on his side, completely facing Lance. Pitch black hair feathered across his cheek. “Did you know me and Krolia spent two years on the space whale?”

Lance’s mouth popped open. “Are you pulling my leg right now?” He asked in a frantic hush. “Two  _ years _ ?” It was too late at night to be embarrassed at the cracks in his voice. Something pinched painfully in his chest, trying to squeeze a sob out of him. His voice sounded small when he next spoke. “That’s… a long time.”

“I didn’t see ya’ll for almost three years.” Keith’s thumb stroked softly over Lance’s. “It helped put things into perspective for me. It helped me realize how much you guys mean to me, how I didn’t want to be willing to leave you a second time.” 

Lance could do nothing but stare, a vulnerable tilt to his eyebrows he wasn’t aware of. They had been to different dimensions and fought things Lance couldn’t have dreamed up; Keith having grown two years in no time at all seemed like the most unlikely of them all and yet. And yet. 

Keith cleared his throat. “Um, on the space whale, we would get these visions. Of the past. Of the future. I honestly can’t remember most of them, but I remember the ones of the future really scared me. I wouldn’t see you guys in all of them, which- I mean, it probably means nothing because these visions were like snapshots so they didn’t show entire events or anything… but I was constantly scared. That I would lose you. That I would come back to no one. I’m still scared that I’ll lose you. My… nightmares are usually about... about losing you. Um, all of you guys.” Keith sounded breathless, a little like the wind had been punched out of him. 

Watery-eyed, Lance wondered if this was the most Keith vulnerable Keith had ever been, if he was rambling in hope from some specific reaction from Lance. He wondered if Keith was being purposeful in using ‘you’ or if the late hour was frying his brain and loosening his tongue. 

“But, uh, mostly you.” 

Lance jerked minutely, tucking his chin down a little and barely pulling Keith’s hand closer. “Oh,” He croaked. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” Keith whispered, smile wobbly and unsure. “You feel like home now... Wherever you are is where I want to be.”

Blinking once, Lance stared hard at Keith’s nervous gaze, cataloguing how his face darkened with a blush and his lips trembled. The realization that Keith  _ meant  _ it,  _ really  _ meant it, brought his heart racing to speeds he only felt in the thick of battle. A racing, hummingbird-quick beat he felt at his throat and heard in his ears. Ears that started burning with their own flush. 

Keith swallowed loudly, eyes flicking away from Lance's gaze. Lance squeezed the hand in his grip, pulling Keith's attention back to him so he could see the smile that dimpled his cheeks. 

Words bubbled up his throat, confessions zipping almost painfully inside his chest like a live wire. Lance wanted to say  _ I want to kiss you _ and he wanted to whisper  _ I love you, Keith Kogane _ and he wanted to breathlessly share every secret he ever had. 

What left his parting lips was a jaw-cracking yawn. 

Keith jumped at the chance to  avoid postpone more soul-baring conversation, his heartbeat pounding away at his throat and at ribs and skin burning where Lance touched. “We should head to bed-” He sat up with a heaving breath, which Lance knew was exaggerated because Keith had enough upper body strength to bench press Shiro. 

“Noo,” Lance laughed quietly, pushing himself up to a slouch with his legs folded under his ass. “I refuse to sleep when I haven’t met my word quota.” 

Keith’s hand was still intertwined with one of Lance’s. Lance squeezed his hand hard, taking a measured breath that threatened to split his lungs apart. 

“I love you, too, Keith Kogane.” 

Even in the dark, Keith’s grin was blinding.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed please leave cudos and komments! i am starving. sorry to be vld posting so late in life. and the chapter title is just uno bc thats how i had it labeled in my google doc outline hhaah! also i changed the work title litchrally at the last second bc "where do we go from here" jus wasn't vibin yknow? 
> 
> unedited bc i dont pay myself for the overtime


End file.
